Three old
men look at themselves
Neil, Bob and Willie
Look at these
fields only inhabited of robots and slaves
The laboratories
farmings
Are on a drip and respiratory aid
They surround
our small city
Made of some quarters out of wormeaten wooden
Which will not be razed to the ground as long as will squeak
the Coca-Colaź ensign
Above the grocer
Above our heads
These young slaves are they with our resemblance
?
We want to believe
Bob takes his guitar and the road
Arrives
to Sacramento the 08-10-2002 and y remains until the following day
Then he pushes his pick-up
To Berkeley for two days (11-10-2002
and 12-10-2002)
(to be continued)
Willie takes a glass of
milk and Neil his guitar
Young man look at my life,
You
are a lot like I was
Neil turns over to grind close to the abandoned
mine
Where all his life he drew
This rare substance
Which
gives him a heart of gold
The moon rises in his eyes
His
beloved is always and still in his heart
Why not an old jazz
which squeaks in a long way away ?
A smile
Rock'n'Roll
can never die
I visualize what Neil thinks
A curtain
of patchwork
Brown like a good brown ale
Brown like this
promising ground
Compost of the life, of our food, of our wellbeing
All that whet us
Neil cooks a good meal with products witch
aren't much to look at but with an exquisite taste
Factories
pull a face
It is not like that you grow rich
And you starve
the World !
Delight
Some seeds of gold germinate on an piano
Organic heat
The dream
Some poisoned seeds assassinate
Cataclysmic heat
The nightmare
Some people leave our
planet
To rebuild it elsewhere
I thrust my fists into my
pockets
My foot runs up against a radioactive stone
It rolls
to the bottom of the slope
Where a production of corn is neat
With savage drugs
Is irrigated with contaminated water
Does
Humanity still turn with this good old Mother Earth ?
Which
requires only to be liked
It is round as a cosy nest
As the
beautiful notes of Willie Nelson
A wind of life whirled
until on the Indian totem
A Native family left it
And starts
there at once a dance
Whose Neil joined it naturally
And
greets them cordially each one
In their requiring to remain
with us
The Indian chief Dennis Alley makes of Neil his brother
of blood
And offers to him a blanket
The road can be still
long and strewn with obstacles
And sometimes it does there chilly
When the sugar mountain
is left
The colored balloons burst in our head
Neil and
the musicians stop the music during one moment
The words are
to be retained
Because it is high time to leave our sugar mountain
Denis Between The Rusty Words
(01-07-2003)
© IDDN 2005
